


Truly the worst part is not knowing why

by shamelessnameless



Series: Monsters are always hungry, darling [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mats wondered sometimes how his life would have been different if he had been honest with Cathy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truly the worst part is not knowing why

**Author's Note:**

> This is another chapter for Lies in Flawed Words and Stubborn Sounds. 
> 
> No one knows where this is going, but it will most likely not be the end of this story.
> 
> Again, there is some mentioning of past abuse and also a situation in which consent is not explicitely given (not betweem Marco and Mats though). 
> 
> Title is shamelessly stolen again, this time from Paul Verlaine.

Mats wondered sometimes how his life would have been different if he had been honest with Cathy. 

He didn’t realize that he liked men as much more than friends or teammates until he was well within his twenties. By then he and Cathy had already been a couple for a few years and Mats was not sure what compelled him to go out by himself and test out if he really wanted to suck a dick or could just not get the image out of his head. He tried to think back to when he was younger, tried to search within his memories for any clues that he had suppressed his feelings – he knew that happened to other guys felt who played football more and more seriously, who were going out with girls because it was what you did and only realized that they were not attracted to women at all once their careers ended and they had time to reevaluate and think. He knew that others had always known, had wives and kids, and sometimes the wives knew about their husbands’ sexuality and sometimes they didn’t. Mats had thought it was not possible to fake that kind of relationship, to fake marriage and to see someone by the side; if asked he would have probably given his own conscience as answer, being unable to sleep in bed next to his wife night after night and lie about what he felt for her.

The truth turned out to be a lot more complicated. 

After Mats finally noticed that he liked looking at men for quite a different reason than to judge their football skills; after he admitted to himself that it wasn’t curiosity that made him watch gay porn; after he caught himself longing to touch a man, be touched by a man and after he realized that most of his attraction was starting to be drawn in by Marco, of whom he knew that he was gay, he thought about telling Cathy.

Cathy and Mats had always been honest with each other. He loved her for being who she was even if a lot of people thought he could do much better, thought of her to be dumb and of him to be eloquent and not the cliché footballer who barely managed to finish school. They had met when they were both still quite young and Cathy had supported all of Mats’ professional decisions, had moved from Munich to Dortmund with him and had never interfered in any plans Mats might have had for his career (England still lurked in his mind, and he had started to contemplate a move much more in recent weeks, whenever Marco wasn’t looking at him on purpose). So, all in all, he didn’t expect her to react badly to this. If anything she would hear him out, would try to help him sort out the messy feelings he had carried around for weeks. By then he hadn’t done anything yet, had yet to start cheating on her (if you didn’t count masturbating and fantasizing as cheating, which he knew some crazy people did). 

He didn’t do it. Maybe it was fear of her reaction after all, maybe he was too unsure if he was actually bi or just imagining things, maybe their relationship was too serious to expect it to just survive that kind of revelation – Mats didn’t know. In a way it made things strangely easy, because while Mats did go out and did do more than just fantasize for almost two years (always in clubs, never asking names, never lingering no matter how much he liked the guys he ended up fucking) it never felt like cheating on her. He did not feel anything for the men he met, did not think about them once he left the clubs, and if he was feeling down about this sexuality it was never related to her but to something more abstract, more wistful. He held no illusions that while a gay footballer might be accepted at one point, a bisexual one was another kind of challenge. People liked to know what to think about a person and fluid preferences, identities or opinions were not something well received. The part of Mats that liked to have sex with men seemed almost removed from Mats’ life in all other aspects, felt disconnected from everything else and his conscience didn’t bother him at all. He was keeping things quiet, went and got what he needed without hurting anyone and it was a good thing after all, because he loved Cathy, wanted to marry her, liked everything about her and the relationship they had well enough. He was not missing anything from their relationship, could never imagine going out and having sex with other women. 

When he and Marco had started their thing (and it hurt Mats to think of what they had had as a thing, but looking back at it, what else had it been?), the clear lines in Mats’ mind of what his life was had started to blur. He had always cared about Marco as a friend, had cared a lot more after he had started to suspect that Marco was never doing as fine as he claimed, but he knew after their first kiss that caring was not the right word for what Mats felt. 

He had tried to forget it of course, then tried to rationalize it, then tried to somehow find justification for the fact that he was in a relationship with two people. At first he had thought of Cathy and Marco to be in an equal position, equally important to Mats in very different ways, equally loved. When he realized that that wasn’t true at all, Mats had no clue what to do.

He was thinking about talking with Jonas. Anybody else was naturally ruled out, because while he had great friendships with some of the guys from BVB, he knew that he couldn’t start talking with them about this kind of thing, could never involve Marco like that. He had other close male and female friends, people he had known for big parts of his life, people who he trusted to keep his secrets, but the thought of calling someone, setting up a place to meet and chat had his stomach in knots. He trusted Jonas, trusted Jonas to give some advice. Still, he kept finding excuses to not pick up the phone. Maybe he was fooling himself, anticipating that Jonas would tell him that he had to make a decision. Maybe he was starting to doubt his ability to break it off with Cathy, because they had started to talk about getting married months before Mats first kissed Marco and got engaged right after Mats got back from Brazil. 

And really, who was he kidding? Breaking up with Cathy did not equal going out with Marco, at least not in public. Breaking up with Cathy would invite questions, would make interviews a living hell for the next few weeks and Mats knew his image, knew that if he was single for too long, people would start asking questions. 

And there was also the simple fact that he had no idea where his relationship with Marco was going. Again, loving each other did not equal making it work. There had been days when Marco’s unresponsiveness had driven Mats mad, when he had barely reigned in his irritation when Marco pulled away at the last second. There were days when he lacked the patience to try to understand what Marco was angry or upset or insecure about and there were days when he was so stressed out from being who he was that the idea of coming home to Cathy and some home cooked meal and comforting silence was much more appealing than going home with Marco and navigating the mine field that Marco’s mood was. 

He tried to talk about his upcoming marriage with Marco. Both of them didn’t say what the other meant to them and Mats was frustrated and angry with Marco for his apparent lack of interest in where their relationship was going. Marco claimed that Mats’ marriage wouldn’t need to change a thing and Mats believed him half-heartedly, already fearing that Marco was showing more bravado than he actually felt.

The truth was that Mats felt overwhelmed. His life had made a lot less sense ever since the boundaries he had set for himself – to not fall in love with another man – had collapsed and broken apart. The effort of keeping the thing with Marco going, of keeping Cathy happy, their disastrous season made him unable to stop and think, no matter how desperately he needed to. The terrible miscommunication he had with Marco which turned their relationship from a honest to a dishonest one made him feel all kinds of things and none of them felt even close to good, even though they continued on afterwards. 

Mats regretted.

He married Cathy. And it was not that he was forcing himself, it was not that he was unhappy with the choice but everything felt dulled and colorless and while Mats smiled and danced and drank champagne he felt as if he was burying a part of himself.

It didn’t surprise him that Marco couldn’t go on sleeping with Mats after the wedding. He had caught him staring at his wedding ring those first few days, after Mats had gotten back from his honeymoon. While the sexual aspect of their relationship had improved a lot, Mats had a much worse idea of what was going on in Marco’s head. He knew it wasn’t ethics that made Marco end their relationship, knew that it hadn’t anything to do with Cathy as a person. Mats felt almost as if he was splitting in two, because his mind could not comprehend, could not reconcile the trust Marco had shown him with the obvious distrust he was showing him now. 

They didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was for the best. You were not supposed to cheat on your wife and Mats was, in fact, cheating, even if it didn’t feel like it.

And then Marco called him and Mats life officially became hell.

\-----------------------------

“Mats, Mats, Mats, Mats, Mats, MATS” said Marco and Mats had a hard time driving and keeping a steady hold on Marco’s head. Mats had been in bed when Marco called, had in fact been in bed with Cathy when he called and his heart rate had picked up the second he saw on his phone display who was calling him.

“Marco,” he said, “it’s fucking three am in the morning.” Marco had been silent for a second, while Cathy was sitting up in bed. “I…” whispered Marco and stopped talking again and Mats could only her his labored breathing, his slightly hitching breath. “I am at a party and it sucks,” concluded Marco and Mats would have laughed if he had been alone. All of Marcel and Marco’s parties sucked. “So what are you calling me for? Do you need a lift?” “Yes,” said Marco at length, and “you also need to make my life suck less” and it was such a harmless statement for anyone else, maybe even innuendo for some, but Mats knew what it meant coming from Marco, knew that he had to be fucking wasted, and he was already searching for some pants and a shirt when Marco whispered “please” and his breath hitched again, and Mats – bolted from his bedroom and Cathy’s confused expression, pressing the phone as close to his ear as possible. He whispered, “I’ll be out in five minutes, ok Marco? I am just getting dressed and then I am going to get you, you just need to tell me where you are,” and was surprised by the low tone of his voice, instinctively trying to soothe Marco. Marco mumbled the address of the club and Mats told him to stop drinking, repeated that he was almost there and went back to Cathy. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but you know that he doesn’t have a driver’s license and…” “Don’t worry,” said Cathy, “I’ll just annoy him the next time I see him to make him pay for waking up my husband.” Mats smiled and it felt wrong on his face, kissed her goodbye and drove. 

Marco was sitting outside the club on the curb with a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers and Mats thanked every god there was that the street was deserted apart from them and some security guy who was on the phone and not giving them any attention at all. 

“Hey,” said Mats, and, after a quick look around, stroked back Marco’s hair from his forehead. Marco looked up at him and grinned his lopsided grin. “What’s going on?” said Mats quietly, crouching down to see Marco’s face. Marco giggled and leaned forward and almost managed to lose his balance even though he was sitting down. Mats pulled the bottle out of his loose grasp and made him stand up and got him into the car, while Marco tried to cling to him like an octopus. Marco was almost always a happy drunk but never clingy, so Mats tried to shush him again when helping him with his seat belt. 

“I’m so fucking drunk Mats,” said Marco, grinning at him when Mats started the car and Mats reached out and cupped Marco’s head that was lolling on his shoulders in a way no head ever should. 

“Why did you get drunk, hm,” Mats said, keeping his eyes on the road and Marco giggled again and said “because my life suckssss” and then continued to stare out of the window while saying “sucks, sucks, suuuucks” in different voices. Mats let him be, let him call Mats’ name again and again, let him switch the radio on and off until they reached Marco’s flat and Marco fell flat on his ass trying to get out of the car. 

“Hey,” said Mats once he finally got a good grip on Marco, whose mood seemed to have shifted and who was trying hard to evade his touch. “Marco,” said Mats again, “hey, I’ll stop touching you if you want me to, I’m just helping you up and then you’re good to go, ok?” Marco nodded, face and eyes red and Mats got him upright and followed him in his elevator and up in his flat, watching Marco take unsteady step after unsteady step. 

“Alright,” said Mats after Marco had simply stopped still in the middle of his living room, “do you need anything else? You’ll be fine on your own?” Marco continued to not react and Mats came closer slowly, saying his name again, reaching out with his hand to touch Marco’s shoulder, when Marco turned around, eyes even redder and his face terribly strained and said “I’m sorry I’m not good enough.” 

“What are you talking about?” said Mats, and rested his hand carefully on the side of Marco’s neck, thumb touching his collarbone in a way he knew Marco liked. “Everything,” said Marco and his eyes started to fill with tears, and god, Mats felt as if someone had just shot his goddamn puppy, “this. Us.”

“Let’s not talk about that while you’re drunk,” said Mats, “you’re not thinking straight. You don’t have to tell me anything and you definitely don’t have to apologize, ok?”  
“Why are you like this?” said Marco and he sounded desperate and Mats was at a loss here, alright. “Why can’t you just admit that I am a fuck-up and I broke everything with not saying a stupid fucking word and…”  
“Marco, don’t,” interrupted Mats and clasped Marco’s shoulder with his other hand, “you’re didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not mad at you, if anything you should be mad at me and -”  
“But you should be,” whispered Marco, “you should” and his voice had gone flat and strangled and Mats took a step closer and whispered back “why”. 

He was sure that despite Marco’s inebriated state there would be no answer. Marco chewed his lips for a minute and Mats got ready to finally tuck him into bed and leave and start hoping that this wasn’t ruining what was left of them for good, when,

“I can’t have sex the right way,” whispered Marco, “but I’m seeing someone for that, not just for that but for other stuff, because I felt like it was time and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, but I want to tell you everything, because I am so in love with you, but I couldn’t after you got married, because I always saw your ring everywhere and it felt weird and I didn’t know and I am so so so sorry and – NO,” he choked out when Mats wanted to interrupt Marco’s increasingly rapid speech, “please let me tell you, just please, I just need to tell someone and I want it to be you and I don’t know what to do if you’re not listening, please, please –“, “Calm down, darling,” said Mats and tugged him closer, hugging him loosely, tried to calm Marco’s franticness with a calmness he didn’t feel, “I’m here and you can tell me anything, there’s no need for you to get this worked up about-“, “I think someone raped me when I was younger,” said Marco and Mats could feel cold sweat break out all over Marco’s body, “I think someone did that,” whispered Marco and buried his face in the crook of Mats’ neck, drawing him closer and Mats was hugging him for real by now, lost for words and Marco 

\- took a shuddering breath and another and then sagged against Mats, closed his eyes, and mumbled “I want to go to bed now” and Mats pulled back, cupped his face with his hands and slowly, slowly brushed their closed lips together before he took Marco upstairs. 

Mats spent the whole fucking night awake. 

“Do you want to talk about it some more?” he asked Marco the next day while softly stroking his back up and down. “There isn’t much to tell,” murmured Marco after a pause, turning himself half around to look at Mats, “he didn’t force me or anything. I just…didn’t want to and he didn’t stop when I told him to and then I just couldn’t say anything after he didn’t stop and I felt,” he broke eye contact and turned back to look out of the window, “scared, but nothing really happened, so there was nothing to tell, and then he kept showing up and I just couldn’t make him stop.” Mats continued to stroke his back. 

“Can I do anything for you?” asked Mats after they had watched five episodes of Breaking Bad, lying close to each other but not quite touching. Marco turned his head to look at Mats, eyes tired. “I think I should probably eat something or I’ll be hung-over forever,” he said after a moment and Mats was about to offer when, “Pancakes or eggs?” They studied each other. “You’re pancakes are shit,” said Mats and Marco grinned, eyes crinkling and said, “Eggs, then”.

“You never told anyone?” asked Mats after Marco had prepared their food and they had eaten in silent. Marco was rinsing off their plates. He shrugged and Mats nodded and handed over their glasses. 

“You know there is no right way to have sex, yes?” Mats said, because from all the things he had been told the night before, he felt that this was the thing he needed to talk about with Marco the most. Marco looked at him briefly from his position on the couch, and sighed and said “Objectively yes. But it’s kind of hard reminding yourself of that when you keep freaking out when someone touches you in a completely normal way and your mind just goes blank.” Mats swallowed and looked away and – “Mats,” said Marco, “you’ve never done anything I didn’t want to do with you, ok? We’re not talking about you and me here.” “About whom we are talking about?” said Mats. “There have been other people between him and you,” murmured Marco, not taking his eyes from the television, “and many of them were fine with taking it as slow as I wanted to. And at one point I stopped expecting that people would wait me out and started to think that something was wrong with me.” “Can I –,” said Mats, and Marco turned around immediately, slinging his arms around Mats’ torso and pressing his face into his neck.

“I’m going to take a shower,” said Marco and hesitated in the doorway. They had hugged for what felt like hours and now stood awkwardly in the doorway to Marco’s bedroom. “Ok,” said Mats, “should I leave?” Marco smiled and shrugged.

Mats took a shower after Marco and by some unspoken agreement they ended up in Marco’s garden, practicing their penalty shoots (they were both terribly goal keepers, Marco closing his eyes whenever Mats shot the ball in his direction and Mats for the live of him unable to take a dive). Marco laughed himself sick when he managed to shoot a ball straight into Mats face and then squeaked when Mats lounged himself at him. They chased each other around in the garden and when Mats finally managed to tackle Marco, Marco was grinning up at him and Mats was so in love. Marco was lying under him and both of them were breathing hard and Mats heart was hammering against his lips and – “I love you too,” he said and watched Marco’s eyes widen and then they were kissing, Marco’s hands pulling Mats down on top of him and Mats sneaking his arms around Marco and he never wanted to let go.

Cathy was angry when he came home that evening. “You could have called at least,” she said while stirring her pumpkin soup forcefully, “I was worried sick that something happened and you didn’t pick up at all and then your phone was off and –“, “Sorry,” said Mats, wrapping his arms around her, “He wasn’t feeling well and I didn’t want to leave.” Cathy sighed and relaxed in Mats’ arms. “It’s ok now?” she asked and Mats answered, “It’s getting there”. 

It was not getting there for a few more weeks. Marco seemed determined to not talk about the night and day they had spent with each other and even though he stopped blocking Mats’ tries to hang out with him and they had dinner and lunch together a few times, it was not quite alright. Mats felt overwhelmed with the knowledge of what Marco had told him and with the fact that they had finally admitted their feelings. The movies made it seem so easy – admit you’re in love with each other and everything else just clicks into place but that wasn’t true for them. Mats spent an ungodly amount fretting about what to do, googleing such constructive things as ‘what to do if your partner was raped’ and ‘he told me he loved me but we’re not back together’. He was getting increasingly frustrated with himself and Cathy noticed of course so he had to claim that the new season was stressing him out with all the changes happening under Tuchel even though they had yet to lose a game or even end one with a draw. Mats’ fitness was a thousand times better than last season and Marco was clicking with Auba and Weigl and Miki and Matze, for fucks sake, and Mats’ wife was beautiful and very busy and not in Dortmund all that often – so, all in all there was no reason for Mats to feel so fucking restless.

\-----------------------------

It was Auba who talked with him about it. 

They had gotten along as well as Mats got along with anyone in the team but their relationship was nowhere as close as between Auba and Marco or even Auba and Kevin (and it still gave Mats a pang to think about Kevin). So when Auba came up to him after training one day while Mats was busy staring at Marco who was in turn busy with trying to fit all of his freaking hair products into the tiny bag he had brought with him, Mats was surprised and anticipated something terrible like: “I stole Emma’s custom and burned it down by mistake” or “I invited my 100 cousins to see me play this weekend and you need to get me tickets and let them stay at your house” or “I took another video of Marco half-naked and it should not have been uploaded to the internet, but now it’s there”, all with the implicit expectation that it was Mats’ job to fix things (which unfortunately, terribly, kind of was Mats’ job). 

“So,” said Auba after they had settled down in a small café, which apparently served the best hot chocolate, which apparently was Auba’s favorite drink. “Are you secretly five?” asked Mats after Auba directed him to a table in the back of the room and Auba had grinned at him and ordered two hot chocolates for himself. Mats hated his body briefly for putting on fat the second he stopped eating clean. “I couldn’t help but notice and decided to help you out with my infinite wisdom,” said Auba and Mats started to think that this was some kind of prank. “What are you talking about?” he said and tried to spy the hiding place of, most likely Schmelle or Papa. “You and Marco,” said Auba and Mats wished desperately for this to be a prank. It wasn’t. 

“I’ve known for ages that something has been going on between the two of you,” said Auba and Mats managed some kind of sound and Auba rolled his eyes and said, “You’re not being obvious so stop freaking out. But Marco is my best friend in the squad and no, he didn’t talk with me but I think I know him well enough by now to know if something is up. And both of you are giant idiots so I decided to help you out.” “Help me out with what?” squeaked Mats. “To either get some closure or to get back together,” said Auba calmly and what was happening, when did Auba go and became reasonable? “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I figured talking with you would go better than talking with Marco, because he would just clam up and then leave the city overnight. So.” “There’s nothing much to say,” said Mats, “I’m married now and it’s kind of hard to go back to how things were,” and fuck, did his eyes start welling up? This was not Mats’ life, it was not. “Ok,” said Auba, “why don’t you start with telling me why you got married in the first place and we go from there.” And so Mats did, even though he still was at a loss himself about why he had gotten married, but somehow he started talking and then couldn’t stop, pretty much told Auba everything, expect for the things he knew were not his to tell, because it felt so fucking good to finally have someone listen to him. “I guess it’s not easy for Marco,” said Auba thoughtfully after Mats had finished talking with a helpless “and now I don’t know what to do or what he wants or what I want”. “Don’t get me wrong,” said Auba and smiled, “it’s not like he is talking with me about you. I just pride myself in knowing everything,” and now he grinned and Mats rolled his eyes and Auba grinned some more and then grew serious again. “But I know that you are important to him. He’s been different for a while now and in a good way. I think you need to give him time. He doesn’t want to give up what he has with you either. It’s just a lot harder for him, because unless my observation skills are non-existent, then he won’t be marrying anyone anytime soon.” “What do you mean?” asked Mats. “Well, he isn’t bi, he’s gay, for one thing,” said Auba and stirred his hot chocolate. “And it’s not like he has some kind of beard or anyone else. If Cathy were just some beard for you or someone you married in the knowledge of her being an alibi and nothing else, it would be easier for him. But you like her; you’ve loved her at one point. That’s harder to stomach for him. I’m pretty sure it’s a mixture of insecurity and the simple fact that nothing will ever be as easy for you and him as for you and Cathy.”

Mats felt a curious mix of elated and hopeless after his talk with Auba. While it had been tremendously good to be able to talk with someone about his situation, the fact that the only thing he could do was to either divorce Cathy on his own account or to keep lying to her remained. He had to finally accept that his priorities had shifted – while he knew objectively that Cathy should be the more important person in his decision, he couldn’t help the fact that the one he didn’t want to hurt was Marco. And while not hurting Marco was Mats’ number one priority, he also had to admit to himself that he hadn’t given the future much thought, after all. Could Marco and he really sustain a relationship while playing professional football? Mats tried to think through what would happen if he got divorced from his wife after not even a year of marriage. Sure, his family and friends would be confused and maybe sad and angry, and BVB would not be happy with him either, because his divorce was sure to attract quite a lot of public attention, but Mats thought he could stomach both, would be able to stave off questions about a new girlfriend for at least some months.  
He knew that it boiled down to the question of who he wanted to be with, never mind the fact that he was not with Marco at the moment. Auba was the one to point out that staying with Cathy without wanting to and only because he could not work things out with Marco was a terrible thing to do and Mats agreed, but that didn’t change the fact that he woke up next to Cathy and thought back to everything they had shared over the years and it seemed impossible to leave her, impossible to betray her like this. There was no solution that was easy for all of them and while Mats had no problem with standing his ground on the football pitch, he seemed incapable of hurting either Cathy or Marco (and yes, he realized that his indecision would just hurt them both).

Mats felt lost and it started to show in his performance. BVB has still performing well overall but Mats made stupid mistakes, losing his cool over little mistakes his teammates made, felt suffocated by seeing Marco every day without being a part of his life. Marcel picked him up after training or Auba or Papa drove him home and he seemed to vanish directly after training, no matter how hard Mats tried to talk with him after. He didn’t think that it was because Marco was embarrassed by what he had told Mats, didn’t think that it was because Marco wanted to go back in time and change what he revealed about himself. But it didn’t stop the hurt he felt whenever he came out of the showers or back from a talk with Tuchel and find out that most of the time Marco had already left, even though Mats had asked him to stay behind for a minute. 

Sometimes he was waiting up for Mats and they went to get something to eat together. A few times Marco invited Mats to his flat and they would cook a healthy dinner and play some Fifa (Mats was terrible). The atmosphere between the two of them was always relaxed and quiet. It felt almost domestic to hand Marco some dishes to be cleaned up after dinner or to sit down next to him on the couch with a beer and watch the news or some crime series. Marco would not exactly cuddle up to him, but there was always a part of them touching and sometimes Marco would put his head on Mats’ shoulder or Mats would put his head in Marco’s lap and he would play with his hair soothingly. Mats started to live for those moments, hoped that these moments would bring them back to another kind of relationship and he caught Marco staring at his mouth or his hands often enough, but he never took any action and Mats knew it wasn’t him who could take initiative.

Cathy went away for a week at the end of October for a shooting somewhere in the Caribbean and Mats made an informed adult decision based on his misery that this was the perfect time to get wasted. He drank until three in the morning, then cried on his couch for almost an hour, threw up two times after getting himself finally back under control and had to drive to training at nine the next morning. He knew that he was irresponsible and Tuchel would be right to bench him for a week and make him run sprints against Auba for twice as long, but that hadn’t stopped him at all the night before. He drove slowly and tried to tell himself that he didn’t look like death (he did so look like death warmed over), parked his car and got out to prepare for the match against Bremen. 

He ran into Marco in the parking lot. 

“What the fucked happened to you?” said Marco, eyes wide and reaching out to grab Mats’ arm. “Are you sick?” Mats stared at him and noted absently that he was wearing his stupid cut-off shorts even though it was much too cold for them already and his hair was perfectly styled even though he was about to get sweaty in 10 minutes and god, Mats was so fucking in love with his stupid face, and when would his traitorous heart get on with the program and just get over him, so Mats could go back to fucking guys in a club and not wonder about anything?

“Mats?” said Marco and stepped closer and carefully touched his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not sick,” murmured Mats and tried hard not to lean into Marco’s touch. Marco was studying him thoughtfully and then Auba arrived and Papa arrived as well and both of them made terrible fun of Mats and Mats suffered through the worst training of his life and the worst dressing down by his coach, who told him in no uncertain terms that he was on a slippery slope and when he got out of Tuchel’s office the dressing room was deserted and he allowed himself a few hot, embarrassed tears under the hot spray of the shower. He got dressed and went out to his car, still feeling like a twelve year old that had pissed of his parents, and teachers and best friends and looked up and saw Marco lean on his car. 

“Hey,” said Marco, “can I come over?”

\-----------------------------

Mats didn’t say no, even though he thought he should. He should get over this. He should concentrate on being a good player and a good husband and stop acting like a fucking fool in love.

They drove in silence, Marco leaning back in his seat and studying Mats calmly. When Mats parked the car in his driveway, he reached out and gently placed his hand over Mats’ on the gearshift. “I’m sorry,” he said and that was it, Mats started tearing up and couldn’t reign himself back in for 10 humiliating minutes. Marco stroked his hand, then leaned over and stroked his neck and then got out of the car and opened the door on the driver’s side and stroked back Mats’ hair. Once Mats managed to get his hitching breathing back under control, Marco asked “better?” and took his hand and pulled him out of the car and inside Mats’ house and made them both some tea. “Want to watch Breaking Bad?” he said with a wry grin and Mats nodded and they sat down in the living room and Mats thought about going to sleep right there, because he felt washed out and drained and tired. Marco was watching the screen, sitting closer to him than straight, platonic friends would do, and maybe that was what gave Mats the courage in the end.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said and stared straight ahead. He could feel Marco shift. “About you and me and Cathy and me,” Mats continued, because he needed to get this out. “I think, I –“, “Mats,” said Marco and Mats made another adult decision and got up and started searching for the wine, because he just couldn’t do this sober. Marco grinned at him and said “I won’t protect you from Tuchel’s wrath tomorrow” but had a glass as well (Mats had four) and for a while they just hung out like they used to. Marco was relaxed and smiled at Mats and teased him for his hung-over state and said, “I thought you were responsible, Mats” and Mats might have been a little drunk again because the next thing he said was “you’re gorgeous” and Marco - 

turned his head and then they were kissing and then Marco was pressing his erection against Mats’ leg and both of them didn’t stop to think until some time later when they were both naked and sweaty and Marco was grinning at Mats and Mats’ heart beat stupidly fast. 

\-----------------------------

 

And what did it matter really, Mats thought sometime later, after they had showered and Marco was lounging around in one of Mats’ sweaters and looked ridiculous and he was still grinning and cuddly while watching Mats prepare dinner and maybe he was going to kill Mats, but who cared? Life was short and terrible and did not make a lot of sense at any given time, so why had Mats to care about anything? This was just them and they were safe with each other and Mats would think about everything else some other time. 

\-----------------------------

Mats didn’t think about anything else for a few blissful weeks. 

They lost to Bremen and the season was picking up and the training was getting harder and the weather was getting colder. Mats would usually get up at 6 or 7, because he had been an early riser all his life and read for a little while and then go on a short walk with his two dogs, before preparing breakfast. If Cathy was home, she would be up by then and if she didn’t have to go somewhere she would join him at the breakfast table, drinking her soy latte and posting something on instagram. If she had to be somewhere, she was usually rushing to pack her things, which she never did on time and left with some hurried kisses and well wishes for training or games. Mats would pack up his own things and drive to the BVB grounds. And there the easy parts of his day ended. 

Auba wasn’t telling him to make a clear decision with words, but it was very clear that he was displeased. “I just don’t want either of you to get hurt,” he said to Mats when Mats couldn’t stand his silence any more and pleaded with him to just get over with it and tell Mats off, “but if we are being honest here, it will most likely be Marco who will get hurt more than you and I’m not okay with that, not at all.” Mats nodded and trotted off. He knew that Auba was right, but it that didn’t help with the longing to just have someone in his corner, someone willing to help him get out of this fucking mess. 

Besides Auba’s pointed stares, there was Marco.

They never talked about it, but Mats felt some franticness in them both. They kissed a lot during training hours when they could get away with it, stealing kisses in the locker room before the others came in, jumping away from each other in the showers, holding hands when Mats drove Marco home. They were careless and looking back Mats thanked every higher power there was that they didn’t end up being caught. Mats went to Marco’s flat almost every day after training and they would get lost in each other, talking and making out and having sex and Mats’ grip on Marco’s hair would be a little too painful and Marco’s kisses would be a little too harsh. It felt as if they were stealing time, as if they were depleting their luck. 

They played Schalke after Bremen, only managing a draw and Marco got a cold soon after and was out of training for a few days. Mats went over and brought him soup and promptly caught a cold himself, missing their next game against Hamburg. Marco couldn’t bring him soup, because Cathy was home and didn’t leave at all for the days Mats spent in bed miserable and with a sore body and heart. He had started to feel guilty ever since Auba had talked with him and he knew that he deserved his guilt. He could barely look Cathy in the eyes, could barely talk to Marco, whose mood had taken a rather rapid downturn. He wasn’t saying it but they both knew that he expected something else from Mats, especially now that Mats was home and his wife was home and they had some time to talk things through. 

“You’re losing him,” said Auba, when Mats was back in training. “You just got him back and you’re fucking this up Mats. I know it’s scary and it’s just been about three weeks since you guys got back together, but I just don’t get why you’re so scared Mats. You don’t even have to tell her the truth, if you don’t want to. You know that he can’t do it in the long run unless you break it off with her.” “It’s not that easy, Pierre,” said Mats, patience running thin. Auba was shaking his head, staring off to where Marco kicked the ball around with Lukasz. “It is,” he said, “unless you aren’t as much in love with him as I thought.” “I am,” said Mats, tired and so fucking irritated, “but I need things too, and one of them is to fucking do this on my own terms, ok?” Auba just shook his head and then reached out and grab Mats neck, pulling him down towards him. “There’s no reason to be scared,” he said again.

Mats pressed a kiss against Marco’s shoulders, while Marco was rinsing off their plates, pressed another one against that spot behind his left ear. Marco leaned back in his embrace, eyes closed. Mats pressed another kiss against his throat, another one right next to his left eye. Marco turned around, wrapped both of his arms around Mats’ neck and breathed in deeply. 

They played Stuttgart at home next, spending the night at the team hotel as usual. Marco knocked on Mats’ door in the middle of the night; eyes red rimmed, and curled up on his bed without saying a word. Mats got him some water, stroked his back and tried to get him to talk, but Marco fell asleep within a few minutes, looking younger than usual. Mats wrapped his arms around him and couldn’t go to sleep. He played one of the worst games of his career and went home straight after, not talking to Marco for the rest of the day. Cathy tried to cheer him up and Mats managed a weak smile when she showed him a funny cat video. He fell asleep with her hand in his hair, soothing his fraying nerves.

He went home with Marco the next day, who was quiet and withdrawn. “Please talk with me,” pleaded Mats. Marco took a deep breath. “I just can’t do it,” he said, taking Mats hand and linking their fingers. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I thought if we tried this again, then you would just be mine and not…married – no let me finish,” he said when Mats tried to interrupt. “I know it’s not easy. I know you didn’t even realize that you liked guys until what? – three years ago and I know that you had this idea of a wife and a home and a career and it’s not easy to give that up. And Cathy is pretty much perfect and your parents love her, and,”  
“Marco,” said Mats and his voice broke. Marco gripped his hand harder. “And I know you can’t chose,” he whispered and cupped Mats’ face, leaning their foreheads together. “And I’m not angry with you,” he continued, pressing a short kiss on Mats’ lips, “I’m not angry with you.”

They played Wolfsburg. They played Frankfurt. They played Köln. Auba found Mats in the shower afterwards, crying his fucking heart out. “Oh Mats,” he whispered and got him out of the shower and inside his clothes and plopped down on the bus next to him. Mo came up to them, studying Mats’ blotchy face and then sighed and kissed Mats’ cheek. Cathy picked Mats up from the BVB parking lot, looking worried. Marco – Marco, with whom he hadn’t talked a word outside of training or their matches, Marco, who was in the form of his life, working so well with Auba and Miki, while Mats was pretty sure that he was close to losing his place in the starting 11, hugged him just as he was about to get into the car, stroking a hand down his back. Mats didn’t manage to say more than two words on the drive home.

Their Christmas break started. Cathy and Mats baked cookies in their kitchen, when he finally told her. She moved out two days before New Year.

\-----------------------------

Mats crawled into bed after he had watched her taking her last suitcase to her car. Her boxes were stacked in a minivan and someone would come over in the new year to pick up the furniture she wanted to keep. She had turned around to watch him, looking him up and down. Then she had gotten into her car without a word and driven off.

Mats knew that it was bad. If there had ever been a talk that was going into the wrong direction immediately, it had to be this one. He remembered Auba telling him to not tell her the truth and he should have taken that advice by heart. Mats had started off with blurting out that he was bi, continued straight ahead with telling her how he had found out and concluded with telling her that he was in love with Marco and that they needed each other. She had listened without a word, color draining from her face and Mats had just kept talking, panicking more and more because of her silence, the disgust that had started to show on her face. “So you’re telling me you wanted to break up with me for three years? You’ve been cheating on me for three years?” she said, eyes wide and Mats tried to make her understand his reasoning, knowing that it was pointless, that it made things worse. He concluded with the stupidest words ever – that he loved her, but their marriage was a mistake; that he loved her, but he loved Marco more; that he was so sorry, that he hadn’t known; that – 

Cathy stormed off. She didn’t cry, didn’t try to talk with him, just started packing her things, while he stood awkwardly in the doorway. She went and locked herself into their master bedroom and Mats spent a night wide-awake, trying to calm himself. He knew that he should call his agent, because this had the potential to go very, very wrong. Would Cathy talk to the press? Would she tell Bunte or Bild that he was bi? He should have at least protected Marco’s identity, he thought, increasingly frantic. He got up and started to pace, thought of what to do, regretted the decision to make his father his agent for the first time. There was no way to keep this from his parents and Mats felt sick. He went down to the kitchen to have some water, or maybe better, some beer. Or vodka? He was still contemplating when Cathy showed up behind him and silently got out two shot glasses and filled them with vodka. She didn’t say a word and he knew mentioning the press right now would surely make her call Bild right away. Then she reached out and cupped him through his shorts. 

He didn’t want to have sex with her, but at the same time felt to afraid to stop anything – would this mean that she wouldn’t go ahead and tell anyone? She took him into her mouth and he sucked on her nipples. She urged him to lie down, took him inside her and started riding him hard and fast, reaching her orgasm long before he was even close to his. She took him into her hand and pumped him and he closed his eyes and thought of Marco’s gentle touch and it got him off. She kissed him hard and then they were somehow sitting up next to each other. Cathy got up and got herself another shot and another. Then she left to go back upstairs. Mats felt goose bumps break out all over his body. 

For two days there was nothing, no new instagram post or facebook post or newspaper reporting that Mats Hummels had cheated on his wife with Marco Reus. Mats relaxed a teensy tiny little bit and took his dog out for a walk. 

Their break-up hit the news on the 31st, with such imaginary titles as: ‘Who will Mats Hummels kiss at midnight?’ and ‘Home alone on New Year’s Eve: Mats Hummels hits rock bottom’. There wasn’t a word of Mats being bi and Marco was not mentioned anywhere. At least something, thought Mats bitterly. Then his phone let him know that Cathy had uploaded a new post on instagram. It showed her with some girlfriends, all drinking champagne. The caption read: ‘To a new year without lies but with so many more successes’. Mats turned off his phone afterwards, grabbed a bag, packed up a few things and checked into a hotel in Dortmund’s city center, hoping the paparazzi would only search for him at his home or his parents’ home. Then he got drunk with the help of the minibar and turned his phone back on to let his parents know that he was fine (and maybe check if Marco had written him anything). 

Marco hadn’t written anything. But he had a new instagram picture, showing him with Marcel and Robin and some guys Mats didn’t know at a fancy party in – somewhere. Marco was grinning wide, arm around Marcel’s shoulder. He looked happy.

Mats curled up on his bed and struggled to breath. 

\-----------------------------

Marco was pleasantly buzzed. 

He hadn’t wanted to go out and celebrate New Years at first, had wanted to stay in Dortmund and maybe toast to himself at 12 with the promise of never starting anything with a married man ever again. He had planned to get up early on the 1st and start the new year with a run and a healthy breakfast. He wanted to be as successful as possible this year, so he thought that this was a good way to set a healthy habit for the rest for the next twelve months. But then Marcel had called him and Robin had called him and then Marcel had showed up at his flat and Marco had ended up flying with them to Antwerp and then they had had some drinks and Marco was feeling happy and a bit drunk and for the first time in months he didn’t feel like calling Mats.

He danced through the night with Marcel and Robin, and some friends of Robin’s and all the people he met. They got home in the morning, falling straight into bed. Marco slept well into the day and woke up to the news of Mats Hummels’ marriage being ended by Cathy, after Mats having cheated on her. 

Auba had written him a simple “Think before you call him” and confirmed Marco’s suspicions that he had known what was going on between the two of them. 

He didn’t call Mats.

\-----------------------------

Mats had moved back home after five days of people trying to reach him to make a statement. He still wasn’t sure what to feel – relief? Pain over the end of his marriage? Elation about the possibility to win Marco back, if he hadn’t lost his window of opportunity for good? Mostly, he felt still tired, still drained by his talk with Cathy, the night with her and the fact that she hadn’t tried to get in contact with him at all. He had written her another text via whatsapp, apologizing, but she hadn’t reacted at all. And there was the fact, that none of his teammates had gotten in contact with him either. 

The only one to make his way to Mats’ house was Auba.

“This isn’t the end of the world Mats,” he said, “I don’t think she’ll out you. People are thinking you cheated on her, but not with guys, so at least something, hm?” Mats shrugged. “He hasn’t called me,” he said, “not at all. I just wish he would be there for me, even if it’s just as a friend.” “You can’t exactly expect him to,” said Auba, his tone a bit harder, “the last few months weren’t exactly easy on him.” “Yeah,” said Mats, looking away.

Nobody else of his team came to Mats to talk with him. Marco didn’t call. When training started there were a few pats on Mats’ back, a few words of encouragement, but no offers to go out with Mats to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Marco was not interacting with him at all, and Tuchel was frowning on the sidelines, watching them all.

\-----------------------------

Mats realized three days into training that the whole team knew about this affair with Marco. It wasn’t hard to realize further that they had all rallied behind Marco; that most of them probably thought he deserved what had happened to him. And they were right, in a way, of course they were, but Mats felt so fucking lonely and abandoned and he could barely make it out of bed in the mornings. He barely made it into his car, and then he barely made it out of his car in the BVB training grounds, gripping the steering wheel for minutes and telling himself that it was going to be fine, he was going to get through this day, he was not going to break down, at least not here, where they would see it.

Mats kept telling himself the same things all through January and February and well into March, while Marco was laughing and joking around in training, scoring goal after goal during their matches. 

Mats tried calling Jonas after a game against Hertha at the beginning of February in which Mats was directly responsible for a penalty shoot and got a red card on top of that. His parents and Jonas had barely talked with him after he had admitted to cheating on Cathy. Mats had briefly entertained telling them the truth, but he was too afraid by that point, didn’t want anyone else to know with whom he cheated on Cathy. He knew that his mother was deeply disappointed, that his father was angry and that Jonas thought he had lost his mind. He was only talking business with his father, his mother had given him the cold shoulder for weeks and Jonas had talked to him for the last time in January, saying “I just don’t get you anymore.” The phone rang. Jonas didn’t pick up. Mats tried again a half an hour later and the call went straight to voice mall. He didn’t try again. 

Auba was studying him at the end of February, standing in line behind Mats to work on their speed. He stroked a careful hand down his back before Mats was sprinting down the field. He was very sure that this was the first time in months someone had willingly touched him outside of goal celebrations and defending duels. His heart didn’t stop beating faster for a good 15 minutes.

He caught Marco looking at him from time to time. Marco usually frowned at him and Mats immediately broke eye contact, focusing on whatever else seemed believable or just looked down on his feet. 

There were some articles showing Cathy in a photo shoot with some good-looking guy and some more photos of them on the beach, laughing with each other. Mats studied them one morning before driving to training and didn’t feel a thing. He was on his way to the dressing room when Marco caught up with him, grabbing his arm. “You ok?” he said, looking worried. Mats stared at his hand on his arm and tried not to start crying right then and there. “Sure,” he said and his voice sounded weird. Marco kept shooting him looks all during training. No one else talked with him about anything not football-related.

He hadn’t had the best of friendships with most of the guys, but this lack of interest in him as a person hurt. There were moments when he wanted to scream at Neven or Schmelle or Lukasz and tell them that Marco and him hadn’t broken up on bad terms, that Marco had promised him that he wasn’t angry, that he didn’t understand anything anymore. He wanted to whisper that he needed help, that he could barely function anymore but he was sure that no one would listen to him.

Mo came back to the first team at the beginning of March. He grinned and hugged Mats and then continued his round and said hi to all the others. “Mats,” he said after training, which Mats had spent once more in silence, “can I talk to you in a minute?” Mats nodded and waited up for him. Auba, Papa and Wiggle lingered in the dressing room and Mo gave them a look and then grabbed Mats elbow and said “not here” under his breath. “What’s going on?” he said after they had left the training grounds, “why is no one talking with you?” Mats didn’t have any illusions that Mo would know by tomorrow what had happened. Was there any point in telling someone his point of view first? He shrugged. Mo tried to get him to talk, but Mats claimed that he was tired and got into his car and drove around for two hours.

There were a few national breaks. Benedikt roomed with him and tried to talk with Mats. Jerome roomed with him next and tried to talk with him as well, but Mats claimed sickness for his mood. He wasn’t part of the starting eleven in all games the national team played at the beginning of 2016. He didn’t particularly care. 

He stopped giving interviews at the beginning of March. Mo was the only one to invite him for dinner or a game of Fifa. He didn’t take a single invitation.

“We need to talk about your position as captain,” said Tuchel at the end of March and Mats nodded numbly. Of course, they needed to; it wasn’t that the others were disrespectful towards him or that they were not following his orders during a game, but he had lost his authority, had lost his good standing in the team, was isolated in all trainings and he knew that Tuchel didn’t know why exactly, but that those facts weren’t easy to miss. “Care to tell me what happened since January apart from the obvious?” said Tuchel, studying Mats. “No,” said Mats, “I mean, I don’t know. I’m just not feeling very well, I guess.” Tuchel sighed. “I can’t help you if you’re not talking with me, Mats. I am going to have to give the captaincy to Marco, at least for the time being. Do you need to see our psychiatrist outside of your normal appointments?” Mats shrugged, and Tuchel sighed again. “In that case, you are going to see him outside of your normal appointments. Anything else you need to tell me? I can still count on you on being part of this team and doing your best?” “Yeah,” managed Mats. He felt choked. “Ok,” said Tuchel, “follow me.” Mats followed Tuchel back in the dressing room, where the others had been told to wait. “We all know what happened during the last break,” said Tuchel, “and I think it’s a good idea to take some work from Mats for the time being. Marco will take over the captaincy until further notice and Roman and Marcel will be vices. Any questions? No? Mats, you want to say something to the team?” Mats wanted to maybe get very drunk and then maybe cry for a few hours, but he managed to look up and somehow even managed to look Marco in the eyes and then pressed out “You’ll be a great captain.” He dropped his gaze back on his shoes immediately. “Good,” said Tuchel, “just to make things clear, this is a temporary change. We will evaluate the situation again in a few weeks, once Mats had adapted to his new private situation. See you tomorrow.” Tuchel left and Mats pretty much bolted for the restrooms. The others had finished their showers already during his talk with Tuchel, so if he took a few minutes to try and calm his breathing, he could go back out and take his shower in peace and then go home, which was a lot better than to go back out and have no one talk to him. 

The door to the restrooms opened, and someone stopped in front of the stall that Mats had locked. “Mats,” said Marco carefully, “can we talk? I’ll wait up for you, okay?” And this was it, the moment Mats had been hoping for ever since Cathy moved out, but he couldn’t, the last months lying too heavy on his shoulders, and Mats bit his lip and started crying and tried to keep it soundless, but sobs were soon wracking his body and he probably had never felt as humiliated and as defeated before. “Mats,” said Marco, and he sounded terrible, “please open the door and let us talk, ok?” But Mats wasn’t listening, couldn’t listen and he bit his knuckles to keep quiet and tried go get himself back under control and the door was opening again and he heard other voices, Schmelle and Auba and Papa and Roman and Mo whispering with Marco and god, he wanted them to be gone. “Please leave me alone,” he whispered and Auba rapped his knuckles softly on his door and said, “sorry, but we all know that you can’t drive in this state. Pick someone to take you home and the others will leave, yeah?” But Mats couldn’t; could barely breathe and they were all pleading with him, and he wanted them just leave. “Please, please, just leave me alone,” he whispered and Auba said a very angry “MATS,” and then Marco said, his tone just as angry, “no. You heard him. We’ll leave.” And they did.

\-----------------------------

Marco took a deep breath after he had closed the door to the restrooms. “I need you all to leave,” he said and Auba opened his mouth, looking at Marco skeptically, “no, Auba. I want to talk with him alone. That’s between me and him and nobody else, so go.” “Listen to your new captain,” said Roman wryly and picked up his bags. The others followed and Marco sat down on the bench directly facing the restrooms. He could hear Mats’ faint sobbing and had to blink away a few tears himself and then he waited. 

He waited for a long time.


End file.
